


Knot

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, I adore these two, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: Jaskier cares for his favourite Witcher.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 149





	Knot

“Oh, stop being a baby,” Jaskier instructed.

Geralt didn’t respond. Of course he didn’t, he just lay still and let Jaskier do whatever Jaskier thought was best.

“I didn’t say anything, _bard,”_ the Witcher eventually groused.

“But you flinched. You never flinch,” Jaskier accused, tetchy when in fact he felt concern flit up his spine, an welcome sensation.

Geralt grunted. Jaskier reached over to the scarred side table and poured more rosemary oil between his palms, rubbing them together and then getting to work on the Witcher’s scarred back, feeling ridges of muscles. Had he ever received care like this? If so, from whom? Jealousy had teeth, and Jaskier couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel its bite as he smoothed his palms over the mountain range of Geralt’s skin. It was smooth in some places, ridged in others.

Jaskier paused. “Maybe I’ll stop.”

“I’ll kill you,” Geralt muttered, but he sounded tired. Sleepy, even. If Jaskier didn’t know better he might even say that the older man sounded _relaxed._

“I’ll take that as a no,” Jaskier said chirpily, although he felt far from it. Touching Geralt like this made him feel things he’d kept hidden for a long time.

When the Witcher had staggered in, half-dead and covered in blood, some of it his own, he’d passed out cold on the inn’s straw bed for most of a day. Jaskier had kept watch diligently, fed him when he woke, washed him. And when Geralt had sat up, moving like an elderly invalid, Jaskier had had _enough._ Someone was going to take care of his Witcher even if Geralt balked at something so twee.

“Feels good,” Geralt murmured sleepily. “Thanks… bard.”

“Perhaps I should sing something to make this experience even more soothing?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt said nothing.

“What? Not even a raised eyebrow?” Jaskier asked, mildly offended, working on a tight knot in Geralt’s trapeze muscles. “No quip about how my singing is akin to a barn cat being strangled? Not even a _hmmmm_?”

After a moment, he did get a response.

A soft snore.

Jaskier laughed. And then he found a blanket to cover his friend with, and took up a seat by the slatted window, picking out a lullaby on his lute.


End file.
